


Like This

by vaudelin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Diners, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 05:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11914638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaudelin/pseuds/vaudelin
Summary: If Dean was ever to do it, he supposes it would be this way.





	Like This

****The noise beside him pings sharp and sudden, cutting a bright line through the morning. It carries in a long metallic scrape across the formica, dragging through the din of the diner surrounding them. Sam looks up from his phone long enough to locate its source: Dean—his palm smashed down, fingers flush like a spearhead—edging something roughly across the table.

Cas looks up from the glare he is imparting upon the newspaper. He watches the deft approach of Dean’s hand with curious eyes, following as Dean nudges aside the drained coffee cup camped out in his way.

With his arm straightened, hand flat in front of Cas, Dean pauses. His hand lifts a hair’s breadth off the table. That metallic noise pings, then settles.

Cas folds the newspaper. He sets it on the empty booth beside him.

Satisfied, Dean pulls back and bunkers down around his breakfast, hunching his shoulders as he resumes scraping a fork across his plate.

While Dean eats, Sam wonders. He cranes his head around the distant side of Cas’s breakfast, catching sight of something flat and circular, made of a dark metal. A coin, maybe, except it’s too thick to be a quarter...

Sam inhales. He looks sharply to Dean, who refuses to glance up from the greasy dregs of his finished skillet.

Cas picks up the ring carefully, pinching the band between the fingers of both hands. He holds it like it is heavy, somehow, requiring all his strength and attention. Cas stares through the middle, down at the table. With a graceful turn, the ring tumbles to the palm of his hand.

“What should I…?” Cas begins. His gaze drifts between his hands, at the fingers now curling instinctively toward the metal.

Sam breathes in through his nose. He glances at his brother again, but Dean remains persistently preoccupied with the egg yolk drying on his plate.

Cas floats the ring over his fingers, hesitating at the tip of each digit on his right hand.

Dean should say it, shouldn’t he? It’s not Sam’s place to assume, but—

Dean huffs, dropping his fork. “Give it,” he says, gesturing impatiently, his gaze fixed on the tabletop offside Cas’ elbow.

Dutifully, Cas drops the ring back into Dean’s awaiting hand. He stretches out both hands, palms up, but Dean knocks his right away. He takes Cas’ left wrist and pulls it partway across the table, rolling his thumb to turn the hand over.

“It’s like this,” Dean says, cupping Cas’ hand within his own. His thumb digs into the meat around Cas’ knuckles, fanning out the slender fingers.

With a perfunctory push, the band tugs into place on the third finger of Cas’ left hand. It has hardly a moment to settle before Dean retreats, hunkering back around his empty plate.

Sam glances round-eyed between the two of them, trying to take it in all at once. Dean, pointedly staring at his fork, scraping it over a stretch of melted cheese stuck to his knife. Cas, shoulders loose and shell-shocked, thumb petting across the band of polished silver. The hint of a smile, slowly growing. The looks Dean cannot help but toss his way.

Dean gathers up a napkin, forces it across his face and tosses it to the table. “Well?” he says finally.

Cas curls his hands together on the edge of the table. He keeps staring at the ring. “Thank you, Dean.”

“We’re good?”

“Yes. Good.” Cas looks almost bashful as he glances up to Dean. Sam quirks a grin at him, his brows lifting in wonder. Cas returns his smile in full.

A waitress refills their coffees and leaves the bill. Restless, Sam reaches for it.

Dean scans the damage owed between Sam’s loose fingers. Nodding, he pulls at the sleeves of his coat, tugging it on. “All right, then. Let’s get going. Ghoul’s not gonna gank itself.”

Sam takes the hint when Dean shoulders him impatiently toward the booth exit. Rolling his eyes, he digs in his heels. Dean crumples up against his side.

Dean frowns. “What?”

“Nothing,” Sam replies.

Dean elbows him roughly.

“Nothing, just…” A smile overtakes Sam’s face. “Congratulations, man. I guess.”

Dean huffs, his face turning a soft shade of red. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Sam lets Dean push him to his feet. Snapping his fingers, Dean waves Cas up from the booth. He pulls Cas in, straightening his collar before nudging him away.

Sam turns back to the table long enough to plant a few bills beneath his coffee cup. He tosses down a handful of change for good measure, the coins chiming like bells as they settle.

**Author's Note:**

> Initially on [tumblr](https://vaudelin.tumblr.com/).


End file.
